With apologies to the author of 'Centenary', Cristeoir O Floinn. "Remembering the coffin ships and all the sorrowing exiles of famine years the G.A.A. marked in its own symbolic way the Centenary of black forty-seven by exporting the heroes of Kerry and Cavan to play the All-Ireland in New York and the Druid O'Hehir flew out to work another marvel, broadcasting the play from the green shores of Amerikay. That for our people was the Promised Land when famine laid its spectral hand on the Fair Hills of Holy Ireland". The Polo Grounds All-Ireland Football Final of September 14th., 1947 has been well chronicled in song and story. A place had been found for both mediums in the new C.D. launched in December, 2005. Congratulations and sincere thanks to each and everyone involved in its production. Every adult Cavan person living in 1947, with an interest in Gaelic Football (and there were very few who had not) can remember where he or she was on that historic occasion. In the book 'No Shoes in Summer - Days to Remember' compiled and edited by Mary Ryan, Sean Browne and Kevin Gilmour, and for which the material was initially compiled by students at Grange Community College, Dublin 13, published by Wolfhound Press (1995), I included in a semi-autobiographical piece, using fictitious names, the story of how a young Garda in the West of Ireland heard the broadcast from the Polo Grounds. In order to understand the scene it is necessary to give some insight into how the lives of some members of An Garda Siochana in some rural stations (many long since abolished) were at that time. In a station of one Sergeant and four Gardai, a Garda was compelled to do twenty-four hours station orderly every fourth day, and in case of one or two being sick or on leave, that duty would have to be performed every third day, or perhaps on alternative days. Except when relieved for meals, 'Barrack Regulations' stipulated that the B.O. (now called S.O.) had no permission to leave the station during his tour of duty. Early on the morning of 14th September, 1947, my dear wife, Margaret (R.I.P.) had left for an urgent medical appointment in Dublin. After early morning Mass I went to the Garda station at Ballinameen, Boyle, Co. Roscommon and found myself detailed for station orderly duty. To appreciate my situation I may recall an occasion in Cavan's lead-up to the Polo Grounds. Cavan had lost the Ulster Championship to Antrim in 1946, but things were not all doom and gloom. Later in Autumn of the same year in preparation for forthcoming events, a challenge game with Roscommon (All-Ireland Finalists) was arranged for Castlerea. Castlerea was about twelve statute miles from Ballinameen. Transport was practically unavailable in those days. I was asked by one, Harry Connor, who was Roscommon's centre-half back for years prior to the advent of Bill Carlos, if I would cycle with him to Castlerea. I would be delighted to do so. However, I found that I would be S.O. on the date of the match. The senior Garda in the station (John Gibson) volunteered to exchange dates of S.O. duty with me but no way would a person in charge agree to this. There was an antiquated telephone in the station, but very few phones in the surrounding area. If our station phone bell gave one ring, one knew the call was from Boyle. If two, it would be from Croghan, three from Frenchpark, an so on. On that particular evening I heard three or four bells and lifted the phone. I heard the S.O. at Boyle asking the S.O. at Frenchpark if he heard any word from the game in Castlerea. I was delighted to hear the latter say that Cavan had won by two points - the score was either 4-2 to 1-9 or 3-5 of 2-6, but I recall that Cavan got a good many goals. Roscommon had a very strong team at that time. Needless to say I followed the fortunes of Cavan from a distance until that famous 14th, September arrived. Around tea-time (6 p.m.) on that evening I was asked by the he only person then in the station with me what time the match would be at. I shall refer to him as 'X'. Knowing well that the broadcast was scheduled for 8.15 p.m. I told him a lie and said it was 7.15p.m. This was in the hope that he might leave although he had made it clear on several occasions previously that he had no great love of G.A.A. However, he got his walking-stick and left. There were very few radio sets around then, and no rural electricity. Radios were not allowed in Garda stations. There was silence save for the ticking of a clock. All my other comrades were out on various reasons. I paced up and down the narrow day-room. My mind began to wander. Three thousand miles away friends were preparing to prove their strengths and skills against the might of the Kingdom on a hard-baked sod. I though especially of Tony and P.J. I thought of John and Maggie Lee's field in Upper Lavey, of Tom Tierney's hill in Lower Lavey, of Ben Gaffney's hill in Crosskeys, of Stradone Park and Breffni Park. I went to the front door in the hope that some kind person might bring in a radio, when who should come around a corner from the Church road but Mr. X. He said to me "That match is at 8.15, not 7.15. I was up in Carlos's but there is only a crackling noise on the wireless there. I am going down to Gibson's." As stated previously, John Gibson was the senior Garda. Edward Carlos was a very popular Clann na Talun County Councillor, lived at Dooneen, Ballinameen, and usually welcomed a number of radio listeners. I went inside and on my second outing to the front door I saw coming towards me two locals, Eamon Moran and John Duffy. Eamon had played at mid-field with me on the Breedogue (half-parish of Ballinameen) team and John Duffy worked for the P.P. at the Presbytery. Having ascertained that they were going to hear the match in Gibsons' and that one of them had a bicycle I arranged that if 'X' left Gibsons' at any stage, one of them would come back and tell me. For the first time I broke 'Barrack Regulations', locked the doors, put the keys in my pocket and headed for the nearest wireless set which was in the licensed premises of the Kelly family, Ballinameen. The sitting-room was packed, and some people sitting on the stairs. There was no drink in view but plenty of tobacco and cigarette smoke. Somebody provided an armchair and I was seated near a table in the middle of the room in time for the start of the broadcast. There was a sound from the box like the waves of the Atlantic, but Micheal's voice prevailed. Kerry were on top at the start and were eight points up before Cavan awakened. At that stage a senior citizen, one Partick Beirne of Acres, Ballinameen, began fumbling in his pockets. I thought he was looking for matches, as he smoked a pipe. Everybody was listening intently. However, he pulled out a five-pound note (money was very scarce then), placed it on the table, bet that Cavan would win the game and defied anyone to bet against him. He got no response. Cavan were leading by a point when half-time came. In the second half I was trying to figure out how the team was placed. I knew that P.J. Duke had gone to right half-back from mid-field and I wondered where John Wilson had gone to. One of the songs said later "Tony Tighe came out to mid-field to help Phil Brady there", so John Wilson must have gone to right half-forward. At the back of my mind I had a nagging feeling that I might get caught out. Across the waves Micheal O'Henir pleaded with Radio Eireann or any other authority who might be listening along the way for five minutes or more. Would I go or stay? I took five minutes more. Full-time whistle Cavan 2-11, Kerry 2-7. Everybody wanted to congratulate the Cavan man but I waved to all, said thanks, and rushed back to my post. I checked the diary. Everything seemed in order. I said a wee prayer that my dear mother had been able to listen in from her bed in Lisdarn and that everything would go alright in Dublin. My thoughts drifted to the celebrations. Imaging the new Cathedral of St. Patrick and Felim risen against the hill, I pictured the bands - Upper and Lower Lavey fifes and drums vieing for pride of place, Drumcrow war pipes, Oldcastle brass and reed, Bunnoe, Kingscourt, Drumaney, Cavan Labour honouring Willie Doonan by the banks of the Annalee. Probably the great Simon from Mullagh would carry the 'Sam Magurie' back to old Virginia. Like the Hackler of old it would become well-known in Stradone, likewise in Lavey and Grousehall. John Joe would bring it to his beloved Cornafean. Hughie would bring it to Cootehill as he did in 1935 as Captain and two years earlier under the Captaincy of the great Jim Smith from Killinkere. It would take the road to Coonaree and return to the Bridge of Finea. Tony would make sure it had come home to Ballyjamesduff. Then it suddenly dawned on me that I would not be there for any celebrations. Family commitments and that much used and abused phrase 'exegencies of the service' ordained that I was not to see County Cavan until several months later. It was late when X returned. He gave me a sympathetic look and asked if I heard the result. Replying that I did, he then asked "How did you hear it?" This time I told the truth "in Kellys' sitting room". He smiled and retired to bed without uttering a word and I knew that he was not so bad after all. Almost all of those mentioned herein and, indeed, most of those 'gallant sons of Breffni' who made it to the Polo Grounds have gone to their Eternal Rewards - leaba i measc na naomh go raibh acu, and to those few still with us - go mba fada buan sibh. Tweet

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